Chapter 27 #2
Panting, Syla pushed herself to her knees and gingerly touched her throat. The cut hurt, and blood trickled down her neck, but it wasn’t serious.
“I forgot you’re not as helpless as you look.” Fel gave her an expression somewhere between reverence and fear, but at least he didn’t make any superstitious gestures this time.
“I’m more helpless than I’d like.” Syla rose to her feet and vowed to find someone to teach her self-defense if not how to fight the way her great-great grandmother Queen Erasbella had.
With her new ability to hurl herself about with far more speed and strength than usual, she was as dangerous to herself as to others.
Probably more so to herself. “And that one didn’t get the word that I’m the backup moon-mark. ”
That was only a hypothesis she’d come up with, she reminded herself.
“I still think they were here to delay us. Which way to the chamber?”
There are many more stormers arriving than I expected, Wreylith said.
They are overwhelming your Kingdom troops.
Since your enemy had taken over the fishing boats to fire upon your reinforcements, I flew over to light them on fire, but now the building through which you entered the mine is compromised.
Stormers are climbing down the entrance shaft.
Many stormers. I can light the building on fire to prevent more from slipping in, but…
We have to take the lift cage out that way!
Yes, I believed you would desire the building to remain in an unburned state.
I do, yes.
I’m also having difficulty stopping your enemies now that they’re so intermingled with your troops. Sounding frustrated, Wreylith added, You should be up here with me.
I’m sorry. I wish you were down here with me.
I will focus on the enemies on the lake. I believe that only stormers remain on the boats, so it is simpler to attack them.
Good.
“Syla?” Fel poked her arm. “Which way?”
“I got an update from Wreylith, and there are more stormers entering the mine. A lot of them. We need to hurry.”
Fel cursed.
“Follow me.” Syla stopped the wagon and climbed out of it, stepping over the man Fel had downed. All four stormers were dead, but greater threats, she had no doubt, lay ahead.
As they hurried down an ancient passageway carved into pure salt, the distant thuds of Tibby’s drill, relentless and impossible to miss, trailed them.
Syla hoped that none of the stormers were drawn to investigate the source of the noise.
The two soldiers with Tibby weren’t enough, not to deal with such well-trained fighters.
A distant boom came from the same direction as the drill noises.
“Is she throwing explosives?” Fel looked over her shoulder, though darkness, distance, and the rows and rows of thick pyramid supports blocked the view.
“If she is, it’s because she’s in trouble again.
” Syla was half-tempted to take the wagon and drive back to check on her aunt, but magic flared ahead, something dormant suddenly coming to life.
No, something that had been hidden behind an insulated door abruptly being revealed.
“The shielder,” she blurted, doubting Fel, who had no power of his own, would sense it.
She picked up the bag of explosives and hurried in the direction of the magic, trusting Fel would stick with her.
The tunnel curved, and they came to an intersection marked by statues and carvings in the salt walls.
Silver light seeped from the leftmost passageway, and Syla turned, Fel right behind her, mace and crossbow in hand.
Syla pulled out one of the explosives, but she realized, as she spotted the open door that had been hidden within the sea-god carving, that throwing one of Tibby’s booby traps in the tight tunnel wouldn’t be wise.
Out in the open, with the ceilings high overhead, there hadn’t been as much risk, but here…
here, she could collapse the passageway.
Before reaching the doorway, the tunnel widened into an oval room. The silver light illuminated more statues and carvings, as well as a woman on the floor. Lady Abrya, bound and gagged, lay unmoving near the doorway.
A shadow stirred beyond it. Someone had already gone into the shielder chamber.
The cavernous salt mine was much more expansive than Vorik had envisioned, nothing like the tight low-ceilinged tunnels he’d seen in mountains where people had dug for ore.
Even with his keen night vision, he could barely see the high ceiling, the light from the lanterns mounted on great pyramid-shaped pillars not reaching such a height.
Nor did the weak flames do much to brighten the white floors of salt that stretched away in all directions, polished smooth by centuries of boots treading upon them.
Weapons in hand, Vorik walked toward a thud, thud, thud in the distance.
When he’d arrived on the first level, he hadn’t been able to sense Syla or Lesva, and he’d questioned if he was in the right place.
But the lift cage had been there, suggesting someone had gotten out.
Still, he’d questioned if the shielder, having been crafted by the gods so long ago, would be on the first level or, for its safety, deeper down in the mine.
When the thuds paused, he did too.
The deeper levels would have been added later, he reasoned. Probably long after the gods made the special chamber for the shielder. This must be the right level.
He’d been talking to himself, but Agrevlari responded. You may want to make your visitation brief.
This doesn’t look like a place that one could explore in a brief period of time, but what prompts you to say that?
The rhythmic thuds started up again, and Vorik looked in that direction.
The regularly spaced pyramid supports blocked his view, but he continued on.
What was making that noise or what it indicated, he didn’t know, but if some machinery was responsible, he assumed Syla’s aunt was involved.
And if her aunt was back there, Syla ought to be with her.
Ozlemar has discovered my presence and wants to know what I’m doing here.
Did you tell him about your desire to hunt elioks one more time?
It was your desire to visit Harvest Island.
Yeah, you can blame me for this. Tell him it’s not your fault. I strong-armed you into bringing me here.
Even with your magic, your modest human arms could do nothing to force a dragon to go where a dragon did not desire to go.
Tell him I bribed you with promises of smoked salmon then.
That is more believable.
We’re simple males, both driven by food. Vorik smiled, thinking of the blackberry cobbler Syla had made. For the rest of his days, he would cherish the memory of that dessert and her giving it to him without poison sprinkled in.
Indeed. He wants to know where my rider is.
Where’s his rider? Vorik hoped Agrevlari would report that Jhiton was on Ozlemar’s back and sending in troops while he orchestrated the battle from afar, but his brother was more likely to be here, leading men into the fray.
Ozlemar is suspicious and will tell me nothing, but I can see that Jhiton isn’t with him.
I was afraid of that. Wary that he would run into his people, Vorik eyed the dark expanse in all directions as he continued toward the noise. Most likely, they would be as drawn by it as he. Just because he couldn’t yet sense Lesva didn’t mean she wasn’t back there.
A whirring and clanking joined the thuds, and he picked up his pace.
Even the floor reverberated with the power of the machinery.
It felt like someone hammering at it with a giant battering ram, but he couldn’t imagine what use that would be.
Unless someone wanted to knock down the support posts to bury this section of the mine?
Could that be Syla’s plan? To collapse the ceiling and block access to the shielder?
Vorik came to a wall before reaching the source of the noise.
Back here, there were no lanterns lit, leaving little light by which to guide him, but he sensed a touch of magic nearby.
The shielder? Could someone have already reached it and opened the chamber?
Lesva might have gotten the location from Lady Abrya.
As Vorik followed the wall toward the magic and noise, the reverberations underfoot grew stronger.
And did he sense multiple sources of magic ahead?
The largest one seemed to be at floor level, but a couple others were higher.
Closer to the ceiling? Again, he imagined Syla intentionally collapsing this section of the mine.
Though the thought made him want to turn in the other direction, Vorik forced himself to continue forward. Light was visible ahead now, an orange glow that seemed magical in nature.
When he eased around a pillar, lingering in its shadows, a wagon and a boxy machine came into view.
The hammer he’d imagined wasn’t correct.
A long, thick drill extended upward, magic emanating from its length as it spun into the salt and rock of the ceiling, chunks thudding down around it.
The orange glow came from a control station on the machine where Tibby stood, her hand on a lever.
Two uniformed Kingdom soldiers crouched nearby, their backs to the wagon as they faced outward with crossbows in their hands.
Vorik didn’t see Syla, but she had to be there, didn’t she?
Usually, he could sense her power when they were close, but there was so much magic in the area that it could have drowned out her aura.
It did for the aunt. The moon-mark on the back of Tibby’s hand glowed silver as she interacted with the machinery, and he remembered that she was an engineer.
Whatever she was doing—drilling a hole in the ceiling, but why? —probably aligned with her gods-gift.